


Physical Map

by Anonymous



Category: Block B
Genre: Codependency, Established Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Relationship Problems, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:42:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6602494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about boundaries.</p><p>(sequel to Belongings)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Physical Map

**Author's Note:**

> an expansion / sort of sequel to Belongings.

 

“Hey,”

Kyung steps forward, and feeling affectionate, goes in for a kiss on Jiho’s cheek, but he gets nothing but air. Jiho’s head is tilted and when Kyung pulls back, he returns to fiddling with the sliders on the soundboard.

“You alright?”

“Are you hanging out with her to make me jealous?”

Kyung feels something spark in the pit of his stomach, and he’s not sure if it’s good or bad.

“Who? Bomi?”

Jiho shrugs.

“You’re stressed, let’s do another hour here and go out for food.”

His shoulders stay tense, fingers stiff when he plays around with the sound settings.

While listening to the playback, Kyung intertwines his fingers with Jiho’s and Jiho squeezes tight, touches their knees together.

“Jiho-ah.”

“Yes?”

“This beat, it’s pretty cool. But I think you should add hi-hat here.”

Kyung presses down on a button, slides up the volume.

“You want this part of the song?”

“Jiho, this is officially my part of the song.”

Jiho smiles and shakes his head. Kyung reaches across him to mess with the bass, starts to freestyle over the music.

Twenty minutes later, and they’re having that fight in the studio, like Kyung had daydreamed.

The assistants sit frozen for about two minutes before sneaking out and closing the door behind themselves. They don’t have to press their ears to the wall to hear.

This isn’t the fight in their apartment, months ago, the one where Kyung told him to go away, and they fucked, and he cried, and he thought maybe things would be okay.

But that’s beside the point.

Jiho is yelling out of stress, kicking chairs out of the way because he hasn’t slept properly in weeks. He looks ready to punch a wall because deadlines are coming up and he can’t overcome his own perfectionism.

“If you’re not going to help with production, then get out.” He’s one step below shouting.

“I’m trying to help, but you won’t let me.”

“Whatever, go hang out with whoever it is you spend all your time with.”

“Relax.”

“Man, fuck you.”

Jiho runs his hands through his hair and breathes in through his mouth. He’s staring up at the ceiling. Then he kicks at the nearest chair again, until it goes straight for the wall and topples.

“Are you done having a fit?”

That night Jiho is tucked under Kyung’s arm. He talks about his work, his expectations, his dreams, his fears. Kyung already knows all of them, but he listens like he has every other time. Because he loves him. Because he knows Jiho would never let anyone else hear this.

* * *

 

Kyung shifts slightly, makes room for the arms twining around his waist. Jiho’s chest feels warm against his back. He glances up from his notebook of lyrics to smile at Jiho through the mirror.

“What?”

Jiho is keeping an innocent look on his face.

The dressing room is quiet and Kyung swears he can hear Jiho’s pulse.

“Nothing.”

Kyung puts his phone down, Jiho’s arms tighten around him.

“What!” He’s laughing.

“Nothing!”

Kyung sits up, and Jiho’s fingers jab into his sides before he can get out of the chair. He jumps so high, his knees knock hard against the vanity counter. He gasps and Yukwon’s eyes shift to watch from where he’s lounging on the couch.

“Yah, Jiho!”

When Kyung scrambles off his stool, Jiho backs up just enough to let him stand, before pulling him back flush against his chest again. He uses his arms around Kyung’s chest to lift him up and jostle him. The toes of Kyung’s shoes graze the floor.

Jiho coos.

“So small!”

Kyung just laughs.

* * *

 

They win in Japan. Kyung laughs when their name is announced, because that’s how he always shows his happiness. Jiho grabs Taeil and Jaehyo leans against Jihoon.

Everyone’s smiling, everyone is grateful. 

Kyung blinks against the harsh stage lights and flinches when the confetti rains down.

In the hallway backstage, Jiho holds Kyung’s hand and tugs him away from the crowd. Minhyuk glances back before continuing down the hall.

“Hey.”

Jiho leans in, and Kyung knows, right away, to pitch up. They kiss and Kyung wants to thank God that they met each other.

"I love you," Jiho says.

"Me too."

Before any stylists or assistants can wander in and see them, they walk back down the hall, Jiho's arm slung over Kyung's shoulders.

Back at the hotel, Kyung and Jihoon toy around with weird Japanese toilets in the lobby bathroom. Jiho is trying hard not to laugh and Jaehyo leaves before they, a group of twenty-somethings, can get in trouble.

Yukwon calls after him saying "Don't be sour." He smacks Jihoon out of the way and presses the button to turn on the toilet music.

Jiho screeches.

Taeil opens the bathroom door and says, "Guys..."

They make a quick escape out of the stalls and to the lobby.

When they're alone in the elevator, Jiho and Kyung can see themselves on every surface of the mirrored walls.

They link their pinkies together and stare at their hands through the mirror across from them.

That night, they ignore the second bed in their room. Even after showering there's a spare fleck or two of glitter on their cheeks.

Kyung wakes up at 3 am to the sound of the shower running. Jiho's side of the bed is cold.

When Jiho leaves the bathroom, Kyung closes his eyes and plays pretend, listens as Jiho's body settles into the chair and he starts clicking away at his laptop. He can hear him yawn, and when he peeks from under his lashes, he sees a Jiho is wearing headphones, and there’s a can of espresso in his hand.

He realizes Jiho never went to sleep.

* * *

 

They’ve been lovers for years, but they’ve been companions nearly their whole lives.

* * *

 

Kyung preens in the mirror, combs out his side parted hair, shifts around his side swept bangs and calls himself handsome. It’s true. This is the most handsome he’s been their whole careers.

“It definitely looks better than the bleach blond you had before.”

Kyung whips around.

“Uh uh, if we’re gonna bring up our ugly days then we have to talk about your shaved eyebrows.”

Jiho rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, we’re still ugly.”

Kyung shoves at his chest with both hands and Jiho stumbles back, laughing.

“Take it back.”

“You’re right, I’m sexy.”

“Yah, Jiho!”

* * *

“Jiho.”

“Yeah.”

Kyung quits and puts the remote control down. The only thing on TV is cooking shows. Jiho is quiet next to him and Kyung’s stomach hurts.

“Maybe we should end it.” He doesn’t mean it. He wishes he did.

Jiho puts his phone down on the bedside table.

“Aish, what’s gotten into you?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

Jiho turns fully and stares right into Kyung’s eyes.

“I’m not going to break up.”

Kyung can’t believe they never got into a physical fight as children. He’s always been this bossy.

“You don’t want to break up, but if we’re not working together, you’re still not around.”

Jiho sighs.

“You make me jealous.” He says. He isn’t answering Kyung’s words.

“You do the same to me.” Kyung doesn’t call him out on it.

“I don’t try to.”

“I know you don’t.” He is acutely aware that he, however, does purposely try to make Jiho jealous. “I just miss being -”

“You are my best friend.”

Kyung’s shoulders slump. Jiho takes it as relief. Kyung isn’t sure if that’s what he’s feeling, or if it’s defeat. He wonders what the difference is.

Jiho leans back against the propped up pillows and they sit there, quiet. He looks at the digital clock - 6:17pm. He glances over at Kyung, who looks sad, still.

“Kyung.”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna fuck?”

Kyung hits Jiho’s thigh with a closed fist. Jiho is grinning, and all he can do is smile back. Kyung feels stupid and young.

“I need a nap first.”

Jiho says “‘Kay.” He sits back against the headboard and watches the TV again. Kyung looks at Jiho’s profile, takes in the blue white yellow colors flashing across his skin. Jiho catches him staring and gives him a soft smile, quick and almost shy.

Kyung pulls the sheets in close and thinks about the words “best friend”. They used to squeeze into a twin bed together during sleepovers.

When he wakes up, they kiss soft and sweet. His skin is warm from the sleep and Jiho’s hands are cold under his shirt. The goosebumps feel nice.

“Have any dreams?”

“No.”

Jiho’s leg fits right between Kyung’s.

“Did you do anything?”

“Played on the Xbox.” He taps his fingers on Kyung’s sides. “Lift.”

Kyung shifts and lifts his hips up, and Jiho slides the waistband of his pants down.

Jiho kisses him and says, “I don’t have anywhere to be tonight.”

* * *

 

Sometimes, Jiho kisses him the way he prays. Kyung knows because he has watched Jiho pray at night, on his knees. He kisses him like it’s private, but not secret. Presses his mouth against his like he’s whispering prayers over rosary beads. Kisses him like he’s all his, but so much bigger than anything that can be contained.

Kyung doesn’t think anyone else has seen him this way, watched him from the bedroom door as he mutters with his hands together, head bowed in worship. If they have, would it be the same as receiving his kisses?

Jiho’s religion is not hidden, not with the tattoos across his body, the saints and holy words. Saint Veronica is scarred and inked into Jiho’s arm. But his skin is untouchable to others, like those quiet moments of prayer by the bed. Untouchable like the bonded veins between him and Kyung. Like the kisses.

Maybe there’s something holy in the dirty dishes in the sink, and the inside jokes, the years of roughhousing, and worn out, shared hoodies.

* * *

  
Jihoon’s paying for another overpriced jacket at the register. Kyung’s phone vibrates in his pocket.

The lockscreen is that one very unflattering photo of Jiho where he looks something like a troll doll.

“Hey, I’m locked out.”

Kyung’s brows furrow.

“Oh. Did you lose your key?”

Jiho pauses.

“You’re not home.”

Kyung glances over at Jihoon.

He excuses himself with a nod and steps outside the store.

“I’m not. What’s up?”

“I’m locked out and I don’t get why you’re not home?”

Kyung counts back from ten, because Jiho is being impossible and totally transparent and his feet are tired from following Jihoon through stores.

“Because I’m out. You know where I keep the spare.”

“Who are you with?”

“No one?”

Two people can play this game, and Kyung will always be the best at it.

“No, you’re with someone.”

“How would you know?”

“Because you can’t ever be alone.”

“What the fuck.”

“And when I spend time with other people, you get jealous and hang out with people I don’t know to get back at me.”

“What, so it kills you if I do the same thing you do? And I’m not trying to do anything. Not everything I do has to be about you.”

Jihoon stops three feet away and tightens his grip on his shopping bag. He tilts his head to the side.

“Sure.”

“You haven’t been over in three weeks, what are you even there for? And, I’m almost back.”

Kyung waves and Jihoon waves back, walks away.

“Okay.”

“No, I don’t wanna see you when I get there.”

“Fuck, Kyung.”

Kyung shouldn’t be so mad. Jiho is just taking a page out of his book, really.

Still.

Maybe he’s getting tired of these roundabout love declarations via jealousy and anger.

Maybe he’s just mad that Jiho is right.

* * *

 

He pauses outside the apartment. Jiho’s cologne is just barely there, in the still air. There are black scuff marks at the bottom of the door. He’d probably kicked at it, frustrated.

Kyung uses his own foot to trace over the black marks, slow and careful. When he’s inside the apartment - his, their, not-his apartment - it’s cold. He wanders through the kitchen, then the living room, and ends up on the bed. He curls up on Jiho’s side, where he slept three weeks ago, and tries to soak in his phantom scent and his phantom warmth. Maybe he should be grateful. Three weeks is an improvement over two months.

He misses him.

He should stay in the dorms more often, because that’s where he really lives. Not in Jiho’s place, the place that he calls his own, because Jiho sleeps in the studio, or his friends’ houses, or not at all.

This place he calls his own because everything they have belongs to the other, ever since the shared pencil cases in elementary school.

It’s lonely here.

But Jiho isn’t going to go banging down the dorm door.

Kyung goes to sleep, and knows well enough that Jiho will be back in the morning. People don’t just forget the keys to their own apartment.

* * *

 

In their sleep, on the stage, Jiho can feel their breaths align, chests rising and falling in tandem. Breathe in, breathe out. Heart beat. There are no lines. 

* * *

 

They kiss each other’s cheeks when Kyung gets back to the apartment. It feels domestic. Jiho puts his palm to Kyung’s cheek, broad palm cradling a small face, and he tilts Kyung’s face to the side, to kiss his face. Once. Welcome back.

Kyung’s mouth lands on the spot between Jiho’s cheek and his lips. The corner of his smile.

It’s been about two weeks since Kyung has come by, so tangled up in guiding Block B during Jiho’s solo-induced absence.

They emailed each other music samples that Kyung would listen to on repeat at the dorm.

After shrugging off his coat and kicking off his shoes, Kyung is dragged to the living room by Jiho. There’s a soft rain outside and the TV is showing black and white movies.

Kyung settles down first.

Jiho slides down the cushions, hooks his too long legs over the arm of the sofa, and rests his head on Kyung’s thighs.

“Let’s get burgers for dinner.” He turns his face to watch the television.

“Burgers?”

He curls a hand around Kyung’s calf.

“Don’t say it like that. You got me hooked on them in California.”

“I don’t really feel like going out. I don’t know.”

Kyung combs his fingers through Jiho’s hair, pinches the thin skin behind his ear just to make him jolt. Jiho swats his hand away and covers his ear when he answers.

“I’ll go out and get them, we can stay here to eat.”

Kyung shifts and Jiho presses a palm down to his knee.

He says, “Not now. After this movie. What did you do today?”

“Today? I went to the studio to work on some new songs, just demos.”

Jiho mumbles something back.

Ten minutes later, he’s turned over and snoring, still on Kyung’s lap. When he’s awake, they sit cross legged on the couch and eat the burgers Kyung bought from the place down the block.

* * *

 

At a hotel in Busan, Jiho treats the entire group to dinner. He buys extra portions of everyone’s favorites. Kyung ends up so full he thinks he’ll be sick.

In their room, Kyung unplugs Jiho’s laptop. They shower together and Jiho jokes that Kyung is as skinny as when he met him. Kyung washes Jiho’s hair and tugs on it for revenge.

* * *

 

Jiho’s outside the dorm building when Kyung gets there. It’s the first time Kyung’s seen him in weeks. He’s blowing air onto his hands and rubbing them together.

Kyung walks slow and wonders why he won’t just ring the doorbell.

He notices Kyung after some moments and freezes, puts his hands in his pockets. Kyung stops at his side, says nothing.

“Hey.”

Kyung reaches up and straightens out Jiho’s beanie and stays quiet.

“I missed you.”

“Where were you?”

“Kyung, come on.”

“Did you eat okay?”

“Yeah. I did.”

Jiho’s eyes are moving, looking all over Kyung’s face. Kyung wants to kiss him so badly. It’s been a while, maybe he’ll taste a little different.

When Jiho leans in, Kyung steps back.

“I shouldn’t have to deal with this, Jiho.”

Jiho’s cat eyes blink, slow.

“But you will, and we both know it.”

Kyung recoils.

“Don’t use that against me.”

“I’m not.”

He knows he is.

Kyung turns and Jiho steps towards him, until he’s ahead, and they start walking along the street. Their shoes are wet with puddle water, and the skin of their noses goes raw in the cold air. Jiho huffs.

“We’re the same. You’ll always keep me, and I’d die without you.” They sidestep a pile of garbage bags and cardboard boxes.

“Do you mean that?”

Jiho nods and shoves his hands into his coat pockets. He pulls the coat close and tight around himself, looks away, like he’s said too much all at once.

Kyung thinks, “Then die.”

But instead, Kyung says, “So we agree you’ll hurt me, probably a lot, and it won’t matter, because I won’t let you go.”

“It just means if things get hard, we don’t have to worry about a break up, right? I’ve been working a lot lately.” His voice trails off and Kyung can read the ellipses on his lips.

“Shit, you make it sound like you’re the only one who works.”

Jiho's eyes shift down to the concrete of the sidewalk. He looks embarrassed. He doesn't reply. Kyung speaks up again.

“So if I hurt you back, you won’t leave?”

“Don’t ask things you know the answers to, it’s embarrassing.”

“No, I don’t know, actually. I don’t know anything with you.”

Kyung expects a long, long pause, but Jiho snaps his answer back right away. Ripping off a bandaid.

“Yeah, you can hurt me all you want, alright? I’ll get pissed but I can’t be separate from you.”

“You can never just say things, can you?”

Jiho’s cheeks go red.

“Whatever, hold my hand.”

Kyung doesn’t get the chance to, because Jiho has already grabbed his, and slipped their clasped hands into his coat pocket.

“Wanna stay the night?”

Kyung pulls his other hand over his mouth for warmth, and his voice is muffled when he answers.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ ficanon


End file.
